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17 August 20 Guest Poet: More Than We Bargained For

A pandemic isn’t the only occurrence that makes life more than we bargained for. Certainly, a phenomenon like the Covid-19 virus gets our attention in a huge and personal way. However, into each life drop instances of joy, events that are horrific, and a whole lot of day-to-day existence, which gives continual opportunities for gratitude – “another day above ground,” as it’s said. 

Poetry has power. The power to console. To raise us to action. To make sense of things. To simply be moved. Currently, one way to see poetry is to take it in, let it wash over us, to enjoy the beauty of the art, no matter the message. Beauty redeems. Beauty can give strength. That’s part of art’s gift. Part of poetry’s gift.

Below are three poems for you to consider. Do they have a place in your current experiences? Are they bigger than the pandemic? Can you take them in and swallow them whole?

Note: The Background and Exploration sections are at the bottom of the three poems. 


1) Here is a poem that speaks to everyday existence, that reminds us that joy is always a choice, that soothing the mind is possible even in terrible times. We need not look to some future day when “things will be all right again.” The opportunity to be “all right” is right now.


From Blossoms

By Li-Young Lee


From blossoms comes

this brown paper bag of peaches

we bought from the boy

at the bend in the road where we turned toward   

signs painted Peaches.


From laden boughs, from hands,

from sweet fellowship in the bins,

comes nectar at the roadside, succulent

peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,

comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.


O, to take what we love inside,

to carry within us an orchard, to eat

not only the skin, but the shade,

not only the sugar, but the days, to hold

the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into   

the round jubilance of peach.


There are days we live

as if death were nowhere

in the background; from joy

to joy to joy, from wing to wing,

from blossom to blossom to

impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.


Li-Young Lee, “From Blossoms” from Rose. Copyright © 1986 by Li-Young Lee. Reprinted with the permission of BOA Editions Ltd., www.boaeditions.org.


2) As she so often does, Mary Oliver takes us deep into the breast of nature where we can find both ‘terror and comfort in our world and in the universe. We rush toward the pleasant. We avoid the unpleasant. What if we just stood quietly and noticed the instants arising and departing? Without judging. Without preferring. Without clinging. What if we remembered that we are not in control? Would this console us or drive us mad?


In Blackwater Woods 

By Mary Oliver


Look, the trees

are turning

their own bodies

into pillars

of light,

are giving off the rich

fragrance of cinnamon

and fulfillment,

the long tapers

of cattails

are bursting and floating away over

the blue shoulders

of the ponds,

and every pond,

no matter what its

name is, is

nameless now.

Every year

everything

I have ever learned

in my lifetime

leads back to this: the fires

and the black river of loss

whose other side

is salvation,

whose meaning

none of us will ever know.

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.

“In Blackwater Woods” by Mary Oliver, from American Primitive. © Back Bay Books, 1983.


3) Now here’s a final poem that the Buddha, himself, would eat for breakfast. Death happens. And the world remains beautiful.


Everything Is Going To Be All Right 

By Derek Mahon


How should I not be glad to contemplate

the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window

and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?

There will be dying, there will be dying,

but there is no need to go into that.

The poems flow from the hand unbidden

and the hidden source is the watchful heart.

The sun rises in spite of everything

and the far cities are beautiful and bright.

I lie here in a riot of sunlight

watching the day break and the clouds flying.

Everything is going to be all right.



Background

As that days of “the virus” pile up, week after week, month after month, and we can only hope it won’t come to year after year, the human race, already stressed [hasn’t it always been so?] now has to contend with an invisible, invasive enemy that is killing thousands and thousands of us. When this whole business started earlier this year, it got me thinking, “Just one more thing.” Of course, it’s one more BIG thing, not typical of a day in the life of a Western citizen. On the other hand, behind the scenes, everyday existence continues to us from a state of terror to satisfaction to that-was-average, to mild anxiety, to terror, to . . . Well, you get it: Life – each of our lives – is always on the move. The Buddhists call this impermanence. It’s a fact that most people experience as unpleasant.


In any case, all this got me thinking whether poets have anything to offer to make this experience we call life easier, easier to understand, easier to bear. 


Exploration 1: Are you anxious about “the virus”? If so, does it surpass other factors that make you anxious? If you do not feel anxious, to what do you attribute your capacity to stay balanced?


Exploration 2: Does poetry do us any favors in “times like these”? Does poetry matter?


Exploration 3: Whose life matters?











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